In the Silence
by libertiny89
Summary: Post-TLJ. After a heated argument with Rey on board the Falcon, Poe returns to his quarters and finds himself in unexpected company. {Relationship drabbles}
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome :) This was originally a one-shot but turned into something more. I like to believe Poe and Ben knew each other at some point during their youth.

* * *

Poe Dameron was unprepared. An unfamiliar sensation, certainly, but the pilot was nothing if not resourceful.

It happened after Crait. Alone in his quarters on the _Falcon_ , after a particularly heated briefing left him exhausted and slumped over a cup of caf. Poe Dameron, hero of the Resistance.

A hand reached for his forearm and he drew to a stop. In a cramped passageway, Poe met the gaze belonging to both mentor and mother. Kind eyes, but no less scrutinising. Leia possessed the uncanny ability to stare _into_ rather than at or through. Poe had been on the receiving end more times than he could count. A vague acknowledgement that he didn't want her to look at him any other way - would feel betrayed if she did - settled itself in the recesses of his mind. The General caught him in the midst of storming off to his quarters after the argument. They were all on tenterhooks, she reasoned, nerves were frazzled, minds were foggy. To be expected after a miraculous escape from a battle they'd no hope in winning. A devastating annihilation if not for Luke. A dead end if not for -

"Rey - of all people! This obsession with Ren has to end." Poe's jaw locked as he realised the weight of his words. Leia, for her part, maintained her usual composure. She withdrew her hand. Poe focused ahead, ignoring the leftover sensation of her touch. He apologised.

"I expected her to agree."

Leia smiled. "Your first mistake."

Poe ran a hand through his hair. Rey, who he became acquainted with moments after their escape, condemned his observations about Kylo Ren. Logical observations; ones that _made sense_ from a _rational_ perspective; observations that would ensure the survival of the Resistance. Kylo Ren needed to die, though he would never say this aloud. There was no hope for him, no light left in that vessel of darkness that threatened to destroy everything Poe had built. And cared for. The mother of the man he wished dead; the woman who trusted him implicitly. Leia knew the truth. Her son was gone.

Rey disagreed. Worse still, she made her opinion known in front of the others. Tempers flared, voices were raised. For every move, she had a counter attack. For every arrogant swipe, she returned a disarming riposte. Along with Leia, the two of them were the sole survivors of the briefing. Even Finn eventually resigned from his role as diplomat, though not before angling his body toward Rey in a way that caused Poe to momentarily doubt the man's integrity. Finn placed a hand on his shoulder in support as he left.

Poe wondered if the girl overheard them talking in the corridor. He struggled to convince himself that he didn't care. She remained in the meeting room, alone. Six hours earlier they'd been trading stories about their experiences on Jakku. Three hours later and Rey was laughing uncontrollably as BB-8 let slip an awkward encounter between his master and a lusty bantha. And now, here. Remnants of a vicious argument sticking to both participants like thorns piercing skin. Poe looked at Leia. What exactly was she seeing? A man unsettled and angry. The normal hothead she'd grown accustomed to. And grown to love. Poe fingered the cuff of his jacket. Frustration did nothing to quell the rising desire. Rey argued with him. Threw his vitriol back in his face. There was a fire in her that Poe found himself longing to fuel. He hoped Leia didn't sense this conflict. A foolish hope.

"I need you to lead, Poe," Leia reiterated. Softly, but with an edge that rendered her most trusted operative a scolded child. "That means considering all sides of the story."

 _Meaning your opinion is not the only one that counts._

Poe lowered his gaze as Leia continued, "You needn't act on every opinion. Not only is this impossible but highly dangerous. Consideration, Poe. Consideration shows appreciation even if you disagree. It shows an openness to alternatives, builds trust among allies." She touched his chin lightly. When he refused to look up she tightened her grip.

Poe was barely able to push the words through his teeth.

"Gives people hope."

Leia made to leave then hesitated.

"The two of you are more similar than you realise."

Poe stared into his cup. The taste was bitter and on the verge of making him retch. A discomfort, he knew, that stemmed from something deeper than the dregs of watery caf trickling down his throat. He should apologise; came close to when he backtracked to the sealed door of the meeting room but decided otherwise on hearing her scolding herself. The look in her eyes as they argued. The intensity. That peculiar mixture of passion and innocence that seared through him, leaving him reeling, blistered from the force.

The Force. Something he barely understood on an abstract level, never mind as something tangible. Poe was a man of the physical world. Receive the mission, prep the X-wing, blow something up. A man with his finger on the figurative pulse in terms of galactic politics. A man with his finger on the literal trigger when it came to battle. A necessary balance that kept him grounded. Too much talk of the abstract made him itch, saw him restless and scattered. An ability to harness the Force made one immeasurably powerful. He knew the stories and saw it with his own eyes back on Crait. He smiled inwardly. To view Rey's inner-strength as something wholly dependent on her abilities with the Force would be doing her a great disservice.

If there was an apology to be made it had to wait.

Poe scrambled to his feet and unhitched his blaster. Nothing but a burning hole in the metallic cupboard left as evidence of the shot. He stumbled back against the door and focused on his surroundings. Something to touch, something to hear. The latter proved difficult. Flustered, enraged, confused beyond belief, it took several painstaking moments to fully comprehend the silence. A bubble surrounding them; silence so pure and sharp it was an assault on the senses. Everything felt foreign, as if he'd stepped into an alien skin, a stranger's mind.

The figure before him. Standing in his quarters. Crisp and clear. _Untouchable_ , Poe noted, glancing at the cupboard, surprised he was even able to conjure a rational thought. He wasn't one for cliché but the silence was deafening. Kylo Ren, unmasked and unreadable. An apparition? Poe couldn't care less. The sensation of clarity in the midst of chaos crept up his spine. Years of training and self-discipline. He seized it with the desperation of a man fearing the loss of his faculties. When faced with the unfamiliar one must hold onto the familiar. And Poe was nothing if not resourceful.

"So, who talks first?"

Ren remained unfazed and appeared to take in his surroundings. Poe frowned. He couldn't see anything else except Ren, who turned on him, eyes dark.

"Interesting. And most unexpected."

"Isn't it?" Poe bit back, frustration overpowering his self-control.

"You understand me," said Ren, softly. "Without all the apparatus."

Poe's jaw set, a solitary nerve causing his cheek to twitch. He felt self-conscious under Kylo's probing stare and despised him all the more for it.

"What the fuck's going on?"

If not for the silence, he'd have missed it. That strange sound emanating from the base of Ren's throat. A noise akin to a chuckle but devoid of humour. It lodged itself at the root of Poe's spine and he stiffened. The primal urge to give in to his fight or flight threatened to overwhelm him. As did the knowledge that neither option mattered.

Ren inclined his head. "Perhaps I should talk first."

Whatever was happening, was happening. Poe accepted this with a determination that constantly hurled him into the crossfire only to emerge the other side, unharmed. Confidence, plain and simple. In himself. In his abilities. He waited for Ren to disagree. Blind arrogance, he'd say, and Poe would remind the newly-appointed "Supreme Leader" of his own shortcomings.

Nothing. No mental violation like that which occurred during the interrogation. Either Ren was unable to see into his mind or Poe somehow managed to keep him out. He considered the latter. The amount of confidence required to believe he was capable of _that_ was a bit of stretch.

"So," said Poe, lounging into his seat. "Enjoying defeat?"

"You've always enjoyed playing the hero," replied Ren and Poe dismissed the comment with a casual wave.

Neither of them chose to follow that path. A wordless agreement not to pursue it occurred back on Jakku. The destination was nothing but a dark place of volatile memory shared between two volatile men; played out between two boys with Rebels for parents; separated in their youth for good.

"Do you honestly think that meagre handful of stragglers you call the Resistance stands a chance?"

Poe feigned confusion. "If by stragglers you mean the woman who outsmarted you several times at your own game then, yes, we stand a chance."

"Not to mention yourself, of course," conceded Ren, any trace of sincerity replaced with contempt. Whether Poe referred to Rey or his mother, he didn't care to decipher. "The best pilot in the Resistance."

Poe raised his hands in mocking surrender. "You said it, pal, not me."

A silence settled between them. Tense and potentially explosive but not uncomfortable. Poe decided not to pursue Ren's shift in demeanor when discussing Rey. Years of the Dark Side but a single mention of the woman saw the inner-turmoil splash across his face seemingly without restraint. Poe squashed the familiar stab of conscience. It manifested as a sudden tightening of the chest. Again, he wasn't one for cliché.

When it came to Kylo Ren, Poe's conscience was nothing but a stream of bile that either needed suppressing or ejecting. A useless, withered old thing that should have dried up years ago. He lifted his gaze. They were strangers. They were enemies. The way it was meant to be. The way it must be.

"Where is she?"

Poe raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"You know who."

Out of nowhere, the pang of possessiveness. Poe steadied himself. "What's it to you?"

"You left her in the meeting room."

Poe opened his mouth then shut it. This time, the confusion was genuine.

"Get out of my head!"

Ren pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'm not in it."

Poe jumped up and levelled him with an accusing stare. "You're a poor liar. And that's coming from me."

To the surprise of both men, Ren recalled their interrogation and offered, "That you're unable to lie does not imply a weakness of mind."

" _Fuck you_ ," Poe hissed. "Forgive me if a compliment from a murderous traitor doesn't fill me with gratitude. As for Rey, she made her allegiance to the Resistance clear and you—"

He paused. A heavy frown settled on his face. Then, the revelation.

"What's happening now," Poe drawled, "happened earlier. In the meeting room. I heard her talking." He shot Ren a questioning look. "You and Rey."

Ren measured the man before him. It wasn't a question of sharing the secret but choosing how much to divulge. So far, Poe seemed uninterested in the technicalities behind their meeting of minds. Ren, for his part, was unable to explain it himself. And unwilling. Poe Dameron armed with knowledge of the Force was a new breed of enemy Ren preferred not to birth into existence. The pilot was a worthy adversary with his current skills alone. Tapping into certain sensitivities was not…ideal.

But avoiding the situation was futile. Poe was quick to catch on. Lightening reflexes of both body _and_ mind honed through years of daredevil strategy and suicide missions.

They stared at one another. A slow smile spread across Poe's face.

"She's shut you out."

It wasn't a question. Ren knew it to be true. But this man's brazen confidence confirmed it. This _pilot_ who knew nothing of the ways of the Force. Ren fought to control his anger. This _piece of lowly scum_ who somehow supplanted Rey and unintentionally co-created a force bond with his nemesis. How? The two had argued—this, Kylo gleaned from what was to be his last conversation with Rey. It was heated, intense. Palpable. Some kind of energy transference, perhaps? And when Ren reached out to Rey in the hope she might answer, he instead connected with…

Poe chuckled at the look on Ren's face. Like dancers on a stage, a spectrum of emotions flickered across his features, battling for the spotlight. That this connection between them seemed to affect Ren on a deeper level left Poe feeling strangely detached and satisfied. He'd scant knowledge of the Force but wasn't surprised that Ren was able to bridge their minds together. Not much surprised him anymore.

He nipped the niggling realization in the bud. It was vague but urgent, lingering at the dusty corners of his mind. Poe cut it clean. Its depth, its profoundness, its potential to completely change his life in ways he could never understand. Didn't want to understand. He was a pilot. He blew stuff up.

Poe Dameron was a man of the physical world.

When he looked up, Kylo had vanished. The dull drone of the _Falcon's_ engine hummed through the room.

Another silent agreement.

A coping mechanism shared by two men with enough similarities to blur what both wanted to be a sharp line dividing them for good.

* * *

Thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at Star Wars fanfic. I'd love to hear your thoughts x


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Couldn't resist exploring this a little further...

* * *

Poe apologised the next day. It was as heartfelt as he could manage given the nature of their dispute. That he disagreed so vehemently with Rey's assessment of Kylo Ren saw any attempt at sincerity quickly slip into forced smiles and awkward silences. He had to hand it to her. Rey was far from easy to appease with his usual charm and was reluctant when it came to shaking hands. It dawned on him then that she didn't trust him. Poe did nothing to mask his frustration. If Rey wished to be difficult, he was more than happy to oblige.

A dull ache lodged itself at the base of his skull as he sought sanctuary in the meeting room. Another day, another briefing in which all eyes would turn to him in expectation. He'd lay out some vague plan, skipping over the technicalities, biding his time until he was certain of their next move. Leia understood. For now, the Resistance needed a base from which they could rebuild. Exactly where, Poe was at a loss. Supposed allies failed to heed the call for assistance back on Crait. He slammed his fists against the nearest surface and observed, sheepishly, a small crack appear in the strategy table. Not a single response. They were alone. Abandoned to the whims of the _Order._

 _We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down._

Poetic. A catchy sound bite. Poe grimaced. He believed. Believed in himself and the Resistance. But how far can one travel on blind faith alone?

Poe sank into a chair and rubbed a hand over rough stubble. He imagined he looked a mess. Unsurprising given the lack of sleep. Unable to contemplate the complexities of this new development with Kylo Ren, he settled with simply wishing the man dead. The thought provided a welcome reprieve before he was plagued with guilt. On behalf of Leia, of course. And Rey. When she wasn't being difficult and completely—

"I accept."

Poe glanced up to see Rey sealing the door behind her. She kept her distance, remaining on the opposite side of the table. Poe was uninterested in playing peacekeeper and simply stared at her.

"The apology," she reminded. "I accept."

Poe almost laughed. And when Rey appeared unsure, he did.

"Glad to hear it."

She looked relieved. Poe pretended to be busy shuffling papers when she joined him. Rey wished to say something. He considered waiting but decided against it. Instead, Poe pushed, turning on her and closing the gap between them. He didn't expect her to back down and, this time, she fulfilled his expectations.

"I'm not used to receiving apologies," she said.

"Not used to giving them either, I suspect," he replied. Why must he always shoulder the blame?

Rey stepped back. The widening gap seemed to groan in protest.

"I'm trying," she said.

"Then say it."

She narrowed her eyes. Poe leaned against the side table and shrugged.

"Say it."

It was brief but he caught it. The flash of fear in her eyes; the remnant spark of regret and...terror? Clearly, the trace of an uncomfortable memory. Poe bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, confused by the sudden change. He was merely teasing. It certainly wasn't his intention to traumatise the woman. The expression on her face, though; the stiffness of her stance as if someone hit her, fists balling against her thighs, eyes straight ahead.

Poe cleared his throat.

"I should have been more considerate," he said. Of her earlier opinions? Of the memory that apparently overrode her senses and left her a broken mess? Poe didn't know. Couldn't know. And, come the metallic object connecting with his nose, he truly didn't care. Dabbing the gash with his sleeve, he studied the bulky transmitter at his feet and smirked.

Rey deflected the item easily enough. She'd less success with the second projectile, however, and stared at him in disbelief after a tin cup found its mark. She touched her temple gingerly before becoming engrossed in yesterday's briefing notes. Poe caught the fleeting smile on her lips as she settled down to concentrate.

It was a fragile truce but a truce nonetheless.

* * *

Leia knew of a territory in the Outer Rim suitable enough to set up base and rebuild. With the _Falcon_ currently untagged and unchecked by the _Order_ , the Resistance had the rare opportunity to start over. The final decision fell to Poe as did every pair of eyes in the room. They were to set course for _Serenno_ in the hope that the planet's most wealthy still practiced the art of _noblesse oblige_ , especially in favour of the Resistance. That _Serenno_ had a long history of resisting authority was enough for Poe to give the order. He wasn't foolish enough to believe they'd be welcomed with open arms. But it was worth a shot. No expectations, no disappointments. Preparation was key. If playing on the planet's past allegiance to the Republic was needed to cause a chink in the armour then Poe would unashamedly exploit it.

Finn tossed a casual insult over his shoulder as he left. Alone in the meeting room, Poe smiled and studied his notes. Leia was pleased with the direction. He snorted, recalling Rey's reaction when he asked for her opinion. _Consideration_. The swelling on the bridge of his nose showed the girl had none for him. It also caused a variety of irritating comments, mostly from Finn who proved his talent for inexcusable puns.

A high-pitched noise replaced the thrum of the engine and Poe shot up, instinctively removing his jacket and covering the strategy table. He'd barely time to acknowledge the chill at the base of his spine, weaving up through each vertebra, slow and deliberate. He flexed his fingers to ease the tension. The alien sensation. The bubble. The unnerving canopy of energy settling over them.

The silence; completely impenetrable if not for, "Sleep well?"

Poe ignored him and dropped into a swivel chair, taking his time sliding to the other side of the room. Away from Kylo. Away from the results of the previous briefing.

"Not really," he drawled.

Ren took in his surroundings and blinked slowly. The leather jacket caught his attention and his lips twitched.

"Me neither."

"I can tell," Poe retorted.

"In-fighting among the Resistance, I see," said Ren, tracing a gloved finger across his nose. "A pack of rabid curs confined to that pile of scrap metal you call a ship. I'm not surprised."

Poe considered retiring to his quarters but decided against the idea of inadvertently giving Ren a private tour of the _Falcon_. Han's ship. The murdered father of a bastard son. Memory of Leia's face on receiving news of his death caused Poe's windpipe to constrict. He swallowed the sentiment. Drove it down. Buried it under the rubble where it belonged. Han Solo was a source of inspiration to every fighter pilot in the Resistance. Far from being a paragon of virtue but he never claimed to be. Poe couldn't begrudge the man his freedom even if it meant leaving the woman he loved. Han did what he had to do. Memories of the dreadnaught debacle stirred the shame in the pit of his stomach. It sat like a serpent, coiled and waiting. Poe did what he had to do.

The pilot gestured between them. "Can anyone else see this?" When Ren didn't reply, Poe tongued his cheek and nodded toward the door. "Rey?"

He sat back as a nervous tick announced itself along Ren's jawline. Poe smiled.

"Sorry. Touchy subject."

"The girl would be able to see if she allows it," conceded Ren, his attempt to distance himself not lost on either of them. Obvious, too, was the fact that Rey managed to somehow control her receptivity to the force-bond while Ren did not. Knife lodged between the ribs, Poe couldn't resist twisting it further.

"Your mother, too, I imagine."

Ren considered this. "Why don't you run along and ask her? Like a good boy."

"I am good," agreed Poe, genuinely thoughtful. A self-satisfied smirk accentuated the dimple in his cheek. "Handsome, too."

"Clearly someone disagrees."

Poe grazed a finger along the gauze. Tender to touch but not half as bad as it looked. He shrugged.

"You know what they say. Hell hath no—"

"You didn't tell her," interrupted Ren.

Laced with something other than curiosity, Poe simply shook his head. With the silence came realisations; that he was occupying the same space as this traitorous scum; that they were exchanging barbs like the final two in a game of sabacc; that they were intimately tied to each other against their will. And, most of all, the absurd, incomprehensible fact that Poe Dameron was clearly force-sensitive and fuck him if the thought didn't make him want to space himself then and there.

"Hardly something I want to advertise," he said, voice hoarse and unsteady.

Kylo returned an imperceptible nod and studied his surroundings. Unchanged since he was a boy. He'd sat in the very chair currently occupied by this arrogant upstart who trailed after his mother, tongue lolling, nipping her heels for a treat. A wave of contempt flooded his body and settled as sweat across his palms. He was careful not to draw Poe's attention as his fingers flexed involuntarily within the confines of leather gloves. Thankfully, the pilot was distracted. Confused and frustrated if the furrowed brow was anything to go by. He lounged in the chair, feet against a cabinet, swaying side to side. It pained Ren to acknowledge a simple truth: Poe, despite his confusion, retained a degree of self-control. _The Golden Child_. Effortless in his presence and mannerisms. Not _torn_ from the inside out and left to fend for himself when he was merely a boy, abandoned by those who claimed to love him, betrayed by those to whom he pledged his undying allegiance.

"There we agree," mumbled Ren, content with revealing the illusion of self-control to Poe Dameron over time.

Still, a sense of the forlorn flittered across his face. Fleeting, but manipulating every inch of skin in the process. Poe shifted uncomfortably. Ren was far from cookie-cutter Dark Side and the knowledge left him incensed rather than empathetic. The mindless vessels who followed their Supreme Leader appealed to Poe's sense of purpose. They were machines. Inhuman. Targets. He'd revel in blasting them to smithereens until his dying day. But Ren posed a different threat. In his inability to conceal his emotions, he undermined Poe's understanding of good and bad, an admittedly simplistic dichotomy but one that motivated him to wake up every morning, don his jumpsuit, and fire up the X-wing. Poe was a creature of habit and this newly-formed intimacy with the man he longed to see dead was disrupting the routine. If such emotions were even genuine. A master manipulator was Kylo Ren, after all. Poe's mood soured.

"So, how does this work? You able to shut this thing down?"

Ren glanced toward the door. Poe was barely able to keep from crying out when Finn sauntered over with a pack of cards.

"Best two out of three," he declared, shifting a stack of papers and tossing the jacket aside. Finn thumbed the lapels of his own and muttered something about quality.

Poe made to block Ren's view of the table. It was a peculiar position that resulted in him lingering awkwardly to the left of the former Stormtrooper. Finn glanced over his shoulder.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Poe hesitated. He was far from proficient in lip-reading.

"It might surprise you to know I've no control over it," came Ren's low tremor, sharp, clear, nauseating.

"Okay, yeah. Sure," replied Poe. A vague enough statement to satisfy both.

Finn frowned. "You gonna…sit down?"

"You bet!"

"…Okay."

It was an experience Poe believed he'd never acclimatize to. As if he'd been submerged in crystal water then unceremoniously wrenched to the surface, gasping for air, assaulted by external sounds and sensations that didn't concern him earlier. Ren's sudden absence paved the way for the pilot to sit across from his friend and lie. The briefing left him distracted. He had a headache. Finn's jacket was old but good quality.

Poe reasoned with himself. They were half-truths, at least.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I enjoy writing these snapshots. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. How are you liking it?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: A little bit from Rey's perspective...

* * *

When Poe entered a room, people paid attention. Not for any particular reason, Rey noted, which implied that there was more to him than being an abstract figurehead of the Resistance. She knew this, of course; heard the stories from Finn and BB-8, witnessed his skills firsthand back on Takodana, albeit briefly.

Poe was good. Rey felt it when they were together. Poe Dameron was a good man committed to a good cause. But that's where the certainty ended. Their encounters left her off balance. When there was little distance between them, he never touched. When she walked in on him laughing with Finn, he turned thoughtful then offered his seat. When Rey presented her opinion in private, he listened. In front of the others, they argued. BB-8's stories left him blushing. Leia's praise drew dashing smiles. A public scolding resulted in rueful grins. Finn's presence calmed him. Rey's made him restless. It depended on the day. And none of it seemed to matter.

Poe Dameron had a way about him—an exceptional warmth, an inescapable energy that enveloped people freely and saw them reciprocate as a result. Loyal to a fault, he invited loyalty in return. A trigger-happy flyboy with a heart of gold and silver tongue to match. A man willing to die for his cause but not without taking the entirety of the _First Order_ down with him. A man generous in his appreciation of the unique talents belonging to each member of the Resistance. A natural leader.

Not to mention a man with an open countenance that could darken within seconds. Of this, Rey was currently about to be on the receiving end. They'd been discussing the likelihood of Serenno's cooperation when she praised his decision. He chuckled into his collar and thanked her. They sat together, easing into each other's company, until C-3PO informed them of the past Imperial influence on Serenno and its history with the Sith. The droid had done his homework.

"Appreciate the heads up, 3PO," said Poe. He massaged his temples as Rey began the inevitable interrogation.

"This Count Dooku," she said. "Does he pose a threat?"

"Oh, hardly," 3PO interjected, a flurry of metallic limbs.

Poe leaned close enough for Rey to inhale the scent of oil and soap and shot her a lazy smile.

"I assure you, he's very dead." He got up and dusted his trousers. "Very dead and without a head, ain't that right, 3PO?"

The droid hesitated. "I cannot quite recall the details, sir."

Poe offered his hand, which Rey accepted. It was gentle but firm. Wholly masculine in the way it held her own. She flinched. He let it drop. As for the discussion, Rey did the opposite.

"If this Dooku brought the Sith to Serenno, who knows what sinister presence still lingers there."

She was worried. How easily she slipped to the Dark Side back on Ahch-to. How easily she could do it again despite her efforts to distance herself from Kylo Ren. The last thing the Resistance needed was her giving in to temptation. With surrender came the force-bond. With the force-bond came Ben, manipulation, outed secrets, and a doomed Resistance. The thought that kept her up at night spilled from her lips.

"I've put you all at risk."

Poe fired into action. Rough hands gripped her shoulders and squeezed. Lightly, at first, before digging his thumbs under her collarbones.

"Don't you believe that, Rey, not for one second," he said and an impatient noise sounded from the back of his throat. "Look at me."

She reluctantly met his gaze. Poe eased off ever so slightly. Rey shivered at the lack of contact and eyed him warily. Deep. Conflicting. And something else. She was emotionally exhausted. Off balance.

She apologised. Softly, and then again with more force. Poe's expression was unreadable, the usual light behind the eyes transmuted into something cold and inaccessible.

"You _saved_ us," he said.

Rey shook her head and felt like a child. That she allowed herself to act like one in the first place left her with more questions than answers. Poe was no broken bird. He didn't need saving. At least, not on the emotional level that Rey was accustomed to through her dealings with Ben.

Their relationship was fraught with forbidden longing. A deep connection existed between them even before the force-bond. The light to his dark was Rey to Kylo Ren. In her naivety, she lost herself in the process of trying to save him. Enemy, confidante, desired lover...mother. She morphed into all these roles and more. His inner-turmoil insisted on it. She had no idea what she was to him.

 _You're nothing. But not to me._

Whatever Ben needed her to be, she couldn't. Not when the fate of the galaxy demanded she be something else. Not when the steady gaze of the man in front of her told her she was so much more than Kylo Ren's plaything. So much more than the saviour of a man who didn't wish to be saved.

Poe's voice was barely a whisper when he said, "Turning Kylo Ren to the light is no longer our only option." Then, more demanding, "It's no longer an option."

Out of habit, Rey replied mechanically, "He'll turn. I know he will."

Poe's eyes darkened as he closed the gap between them. "And you?"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

In his quarters, Poe released his frustration on an unsuspecting mirror. When he said Rey wasn't a risk, he meant it. Slowly, almost in meditation, he pieced together the glass and avoided his reflection. When the familiar silence fell over the room he pushed his chair back and waited.

If anyone on board the _Falcon_ could be considered a risk, it wasn't Rey.

* * *

A/N: What can I say, I love happy-go-lucky Poe as much as the next person but the man's got a temper and I enjoy provoking it.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Happy 2018 everyone =)

* * *

It was Leia he visited that night. The General was sitting by the viewing window with a stack of faded papers in her hand.

"Han's dealings with a mercenary on Manaan," she said with a wry smile.

Poe chuckled, maintaining a respectful distance as he took a seat. BB-8 remained at his heels. Poe was equally devoted to the little astromech. He found the droid waiting for him outside his door. As always, the conversation with Ren was an exhausting mixture of caustic banter and mutual loathing. They occasionally fell into sincere discussion about the goings-on of the galaxy. Poe was quick to remedy this familiarity with some kind of provocation. Mention of Rey usually worked, as did any allusion to Leia. For this, Ren's go-to response was to remind Poe of the failed mission to Canto Bight that resulted in the loss of ninety per cent of the Resistance High Command. Enlisting the help of a self-professed thief didn't show much leadership skill, he added.

"Yes, well, you know all about betrayal," replied Poe.

Ren raised a curious brow. "Yes, I do."

"Being a traitor yourself."

"Who exactly have I betrayed?"

Poe shot him an incredulous look and patted his jacket, scanning the room.

"Got a list around here somewhere."

Ren indulged him.

"Let's see. Your parents?"

"I hardly saw them," Ren replied calmly. "Then they sent me away. You know this."

Poe looked thoughtful. "With your uncle, who you also betrayed."

"No."

Poe recalled Rey's insistence that Kylo Ren spent much of the last decade undergoing emotional torment at the hands of Snoke. He didn't care. Nothing excused the atrocities.

"Rey believes there's good in you," continued Poe and Ren's eyes darkened. "Betrayed her trust, as well."

Satisfied, Poe began clearing the remnants of a hasty meal. These interactions didn't seem to last longer than fifteen minutes and hopefully this one was no different.

"Believes?"

Poe stiffened momentarily before busying himself and reorganising his bunk. He was tired. Not only of Ren's company - that was a given - but on an emotional level. He looked forward to some relief when they landed on Ryloth to refuel.

"Fuck knows why," he muttered, admitting, too, that Rey's faith in Kylo had not completely disappeared. "You could always ask her."

"Does this anger you?"

Poe smirked. "The mind manipulation won't work on me, buddy."

"It would anger me."

"How surprising."

They assessed each other freely. Poe was unable to hide his curiosity when Kylo turned slightly and frowned. Someone had his attention. Absurdly, Poe found himself laughing at the thought of Ren lip-reading. Then, a memory, sharp and clear of two boys spying on their parents from the next room. A confidential meeting. Poe dressed in loose fitting garments, scuffed knees, barefoot. Ben, several years younger, wearing an oversized jacket they commandeered from a drunk Pantoran the previous night.

Poe swallowed. A strange sensation; tongue like lead and sand. Ren nodded at whoever interrupted and returned his attention. If he noticed Poe's shift in demeanour, he didn't comment on it.

"The General and his demands," drawled Ren.

Poe regained his equilibrium. A timely reminder. He needed to see Leia. For the usual reasons - when his head was in the clouds, she kept him grounded, when he was restless, she calmed him. But there was something else. He needed to know if she sensed anything, if she knew about this connection between the two men she considered sons. To Poe's knowledge, Rey didn't suspect anything. Did Leia?

When he left his quarters, BB-8 was waiting for him. The droid heard him arguing with himself. His master laughed it off.

"I realise now that the more I told Han to be careful, the more dangerous the situation became," said Leia and Poe smiled inwardly. "Sound familiar?"

He shrugged, picking a thread of his jacket.

"Being back on this ship..." She hesitated.

Poe waited. Patient, understanding, calm. All the things that Rey's company seemed to test. Leia stared out the window, lost in thought. Older now but still beautiful. Always beautiful. He remembered the slap he earned when he was sixteen ("You know, if I were older and you were -").

Poe's cheek tingled at the memory. Not to mention the recent slaps. Princess and General, mourning mother and widow, she never lost that fire. He dropped his gaze. Leia was more than a maternal figure. His thoughts drifted to Rey.

"Being on this ship brings back memories," Leia finally said.

Poe nodded. "I can imagine."

"Can you?"

When he looked up, she was staring at him. Those deep brown eyes penetrating skin and bone and going straight for the soul.

"It hasn't changed," he conceded.

"No," replied Leia slowly. Tricky territory, memory lane. "Poe, I've an apology to make."

She almost laughed. The boy - he would always be a boy - was stunned. And offended.

"I don't want to hear it," Poe said. Leia had nothing to apologise for. He, on the other hand...

She touched his arm lightly. "I've always looked upon you as a son."

He rested a hand over hers.

"But motherhood has never been one of my strengths."

Poe could barely restrain his anger. "He'll have you believe that, Leia. Don't believe it. Don't you believe it!"

That Kylo Ren caused the two strongest women on board the ship to question their self-worth infuriated him. But Leia simply smiled. There was a sadness behind it, deep and enduring. A grief so heavy he felt as if he would collapse beneath it.

"All those times you supported me with Ben and I..." She paused, considering her words carefully. "And I never appreciated that perhaps you-"

"I feel nothing for Kylo Ren."

Leia hesitated but Poe didn't retreat. The floodgates were open.

"Not for the memory of him, not now, not ever."

He fought to steady his breathing and realised he'd tightened his grip. Poe released her.

"The line between love and hate is not so clear-cut as we like to believe," said Leia, her eyes showing a depth of understanding and compassion that Poe simply couldn't bring himself to reflect. But there was something else. A knowingness. Leia always spoke from a wealth of knowledge but this was different. Poe tested the waters.

"I've no connection to him," he said. "Not anymore."

"No," she said, giving nothing away. Poe's heart beat erratically. "And so a bond becomes a burden."

Leia brought a hand to his cheek.

"Don't close off your heart, Poe. I don't think I could bear it."

Their hands rested on his chest.

"Still beating," he said, with a reassuring smile.

It was Finn who delivered the news the next day.

Leia Organa was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Just out of curiosity, what's the portmanteau for Poe/Kylo? Is it Polo? I wish it was SupremePilot. Of course, this could also refer to Snoke and that visual is sufficiently gross. Get outta my portmanteau, Snoke. (Update - just found out it's DarkPilot)

* * *

Finn couldn't remember when Resistance morale had been so low. Even in the face of imminent destruction back on Crait, there remained a glimmer of hope. He realised now that hope was something tangible, something physical.

Hope was Leia.

 _There's still hope!_

As in, there's still Leia. Finn recalled Poe's words from last night. They passed each other in the passage; the former distracted by Rose's progress report, the latter leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Finn turned to leave when Poe spoke.

"We've our work cut out for us but I still have hope."

Now, watching the pilot take his seat for the fourth time that day, Finn understood the deeper meaning.

 _I still have Leia._

Finn debated whether or not to intrude. A momentary lapse of judgement, of course, for Poe was quick to notice him and set up another chair. It was a rickety thing, bent at the hinges from Chewie's weight, but it would do. The room was sealed off to keep the temperature stable. Nothing but a couple of chairs and a table on which Leia's body rested under a white sheet. On receiving the news, Poe stripped his bunk and sequestered himself in the room until he was satisfied.

It was Rey who found her in the early hours of the morning. As a result, Poe avoided her company. This hadn't been a difficult task to achieve and he wondered, absurdly, if _she_ was avoiding _him_. Despite everything—his mother-mentor's lifeless body, his final spark of hope extinguished, the loss of his greatest love, the burden of rebuilding the Resistance close to crushing his shoulders—despite all that should render him emotionally numb, Rey avoiding his company _annoyed_ him.

Finn rested a hand on his shoulder. They stared at the body, acknowledging, too, the depth of their friendship as they appreciated Leia's.

"We refuel at Ryloth then make the jump," said Poe. "We'll reach Serenno by tomorrow."

Finn nodded. Then, hesitant, "And the General?"

"We'll bury her wherever we make base," he replied, mechanically. Poe glanced at Leia's face. Uncovered, peaceful, angelic. He clutched his shirt in response to the cramp in his chest. The room resembled a furnace despite the chilly temperature. Sweat pricked his skin, each breath was shallower than the last. Finn's body heat seemed to absorb into his own. Poe hastily removed his jacket and tossed it in the corner.

"We bury Leia where she belongs," he choked, unable to express his gratitude on seeing Finn retrieve the jacket and drape it over his chair.

Finn looked at him. Intensity and understanding blending together to reveal unshakeable purpose.

"Leia founded the Resistance," he said, watching the small smile appear on the pilot's face. The first one of the day.

Poe nodded. "And now she'll be the foundation on which it rebuilds."

Finn made to leave.

"Glad it was you, buddy," said Poe and on seeing his friend's confusion, adding, "That delivered the news."

"The hardest thing I've ever done. And I had to nurse Chewie."

Poe laughed. The first one of the day.

* * *

They docked at the Lessu spaceport. Though Poe granted the crew an evening's shore leave, no one took up the offer. After bargaining for fuel with a particularly stubborn Twi'lek, Chewie watched over the procedure while Poe returned to Leia. Every moment he was away felt like an eternity. Giving orders became a burden rather than a duty. Everything got in the way. Everything got in the way of Leia.

Poe studied her face. It wasn't like him to be consumed by grief. That Leia's death inspired a suffering so deep he failed to intellectualise it should not have surprised him. He'd been unable to rationalise his feelings when she was alive. He tried, of course; gave her labels, isolated and compartmentalised parts of their complicated relationship, willingly swayed between admiration and adoration. But it was so much more. She was so much more. Words were useless. Leia affected him on a cellular level. Her presence, somehow all the more potent in death, lingered and settled on his skin, in his blood, in his bones.

So consumed by the lack of her was Poe that he barely acknowledged the silence. He drew the sheet up and didn't turn to see Ren behind him. Kylo Ren, of all people, wouldn't ruin this moment. Poe would ignore him and the bond would dissolve.

The voice drifted over the room, soft and clipped.

"There's no need to shelter her. I felt it."

Poe could hardly see straight. The things he'd do if Kylo Ren was actually in the room. He didn't consider himself a sadistic man but there was a first time for everything.

"She was like a mother to you."

Poe rubbed a hand over his face. The other hand was firmly planted on the table in a feeble effort to stay upright.

"Let me see her."

Finally, Poe looked at him. Red-rimmed eyes, swollen and sore, but no less intense. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Fuck you." And, then, louder. "Fuck you, _Ben_."

The word was a betrayal on his tongue. Nausea surged upward with a vengeance. All because of this man, this monster, this _son_ who thought he deserved closure with the mother he sacrificed for personal power. Poe was having none of it.

"She didn't mention you," he added.

A lie, of course. Poe could have shot himself in frustration. Here he was grieving and still, the conscience, the guilt, the shame. Kylo Ren, Ben, whoever he was now, was undeserving. As for pity, Poe's was currently rearing its ugly head on observing Ren's change in demeanour. His gaze was trained on the table. Poe shielded her in desperation as Ren tried to process the event; a twitch of the eye, the subtle trembling and gnawing of the bottom lip.

"Let me see her."

Poe shook his head, knuckles white under the table. Anger swelled from a seemingly bottomless pit; an internal abyss previously undiscovered now violently unearthed as Ren's eyes flickered to his.

"Please."

The depth of Poe's rage alarmed him. So too, the subtle tightening around his heart. Closing off? A frustrated cry threatened to spill from his lips. He wouldn't give Ren the pleasure; not of seeing him upset, not of seeing his mother. Nothing.

Again, the knife in the chest as Ren returned his gaze to the table. Poe massaged his brow, took a seat, paced the room, then, unable to restrain himself, let out a groan of ungovernable anguish. Raw and animalistic, he was grateful for the privacy of the bond even if it meant sharing the vulnerability with Kylo Ren.

No, it wasn't the closing of the heart but a reluctant opening; a stubborn light penetrating the fissure that breached the delicate casing when Leia left him. Cracked and on the verge of shattering, but not beyond compassion.

Poe removed the sheet.

"You've got two minutes."


End file.
